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The Megas, if you’re not familiar, are a band whose entire discography is made up of their interpretations of the 8-bit themes from the classic Mega Man video game series from the late eighties and early nineties. Their first album, Get Equipped, was a rockin’ concept album based on the Mega Man 2 soundtrack. They also collaborated with the band Entertainment System on a suite of songs inspired by the first Mega Man game called Megatainment. In their latest outing, they have reimagined the entirety of Get Equipped with acoustic arrangements, and appropriately titled it Get Acoustic.

Broadway musicals and rock operas often include reprises—instances where a song is sung a second time, often by a different character or at a more reflective tempo. I’m a big fan of Get Equipped, so for me this entire album feels like an introspective reprise of an album I already know and love. The lyrics and sound of Get Equipped brought to mind a glowing city full of robot monsters; at once candy-colored, menacing, and emotionally complex. At first this album brings to mind the barren, ghost town version of the same backdrop. What sounded like neon and chrome has been replaced by sepia and dust. And while this is at first a jarring change, what The Megas have created here is a unique piece of art unto itself, with many advantages over their debut album.

The first thing I noticed besides the drastic change in style was the improved quality of the recording and better placement of vocals in the mix. The lyrics of The Megas strike a rare balance between poetically dramatizing the Mega Man mythos and making subtle winks at the audience through clever wordplay and references to elements of the games. “The Annihilation of Monsteropolis”, their version of Air Man’s theme, is the song that made me realize how thoughtful their lyrics really are. When Air Man sings “Do you know what it’s like to be built this way? With only the power to push others away” he transforms from a ridiculous 8-bit baddie to a living character with a heart and a story. These brilliant lyrics are easier to hear and understand in this outing, and that works well with the more introspective feel of the music.

Where Get Equipped rocked and wailed, Get Acoustic broods, marches, and soars. Though a few instances of a string section in the accompaniment are unconvincing in terms of realism, they far more often add a cinematic weight to the songs as well as an element of maturity. Get Acoustic has plenty of interesting choices in terms of orchestration, an example being a xylophone solo in the aforementioned “Annihilation of Monsteropolis”. In some places, The Megas seem to have actually unlocked the purest forms of their interpretations, such as “The Quick And The Blue”, their shootout-at-high-noon take on Quick Man’s theme. The acoustic guitars here mixed with a chugging string section bring to mind a futuristic western and really have you picturing Quick Man in a black Stetson. A few tracks feel like they were forcibly acoustic-ized against their will, like the comparatively lethargic “I Want To Be The One”. In still other cases, The Megas subvert the limitation of an “acoustic” sound by turning the emotional subtext of a song on its head, such as in “Programmed To Fight”, which—despite the fact that it involves a possibly suicidal Crash Man—begins with a gentle lightness in the strings that implies a very deep and complex situation for the character. Who knew the Mega Man robot masters were so Shakespearean in their longings and woes? The Megas paint broad strokes of these characters, showing us a dramatic framework of hopes and vulnerabilities, and in so doing allow us to see ourselves in characters who were once only pixelated obstacles to winning the game.

The album ends with “Lamentations of a War Machine”, in which Mega Man questions his purpose and the ethical implications of being a “robot built to fight”. It offers a poignant denouement to the adventure, with our hero asking whether his quest was necessary, as we all do from time to time. While listening to the first few tracks, I was wondering the same thing about the Megas; was this a necessary and essential addition to their catalogue, or would they have been better off creating a new album based on another Mega Man title? After a thorough listen, I can tell you that there is merit to their choice to strip their debut album to its bare essentials. It allows their clever and surprising portraits of these characters to speak for themselves and provides an arguably improved opportunity for fans and strangers alike to do the unlikely—that is, to experience feelings of empathy and endearment for a company of fictitious robots. In Get Acoustic, The Megas defeat the robot master Pathos Man, and, like the blue hero they chronicle, use his power for the forces of good.

PROS: Clever lyrics, huge nostalgia bomb for any Mega Man fan, universally enjoyable tunes for the casual listener, ear-tickling solutions to the challenges of going acoustic.

CONS: Style takes some getting used to for fans of the old version, occasionally fake-sounding instrumentation.

Overall score: 8.5 out of 10.

Get Acoustic is available on iTunes for $9.99

You can also purchase it and other Megas merchandise from and you can follow them on Twitter at


Yesterday, my first brentalfloss CD, “What If This CD… had Lyrics?” went up for pre-order at the ScrewAttack Store website. A lot of you probably noticed that the cost for UPS ground shipping was eight dollars and fifty cents. I honestly hadn’t realized that shipping was going to be that high on the CD. When some of you started to tweet and message me about it, I wrote an email to Chad, who takes care of merchandise over at ScrewAttack. By the time he emailed me back a few hours later, he had fixed the problem.

Apparently, the online merch system ScrewAttack uses makes it difficult to ship via anything but UPS and UPS has been jacking up their rates for a while… shipping averages $7-$10 even on small orders, so ScrewAttack actually loses money on a lot of orders because of shipping. Chad agreed that the shipping cost was high for a CD, so he did some research and found a way to use USPS “1st Class” with delivery confirmation. He was able to set up this temporary cheaper shipping option until they switch their online merch system. It won’t get there quite as fast as UPS, and there’s no tracking (only confirmation of delivery) but price-wise it’s totally reasonable.

BUT WAIT! Now you can ship the CD for just $3.50 and the CD/t-shirt combo pack for $3.75! And if you already pre-ordered it and want to switch your shipping to the cheaper “1st Class” option, ScrewAttack will refund you the difference. All you have to do is send an email to Chad at along with your order number and he’ll get it all worked out for you. ScrewAttack has awesome customer service and they’ll take good care of you every time. That’s why I chose them as the company who would distribute my first-ever brentalfloss CD. So if you were hesitant to pay $8.50 for shipping, head to and take a second look. The CD, which is titled “What if This CD… had Lyrics?” is 20 tracks of brentalfloss goodness, souped up in crystal-clear CD quality, and it includes classic “With Lyrics” songs as well as never-before heard material that you can’t find on Youtube. Remember, I’m personally autographing every single CD ordered before the pre-order period ends on April 4th. So buy it now, mofo.

Thanks for watching, listening, and being fans. Really.


I recently tweeted “Sometimes it’s difficult to strike a balance between seizing the day and strangling it.”

When I was younger, I always thought that if I ever got a tattoo, I’d get one on the bottom of my foot that said “CARPE DIEM” (I was a big fan of Dead Poets Society).

But what does carpe diem really mean? How do you seize a day?

One version of this saying is “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow we die!” It’s a great adage and all, but its daily application would quickly turn someone into an obese alcoholic, probably far less merry than originally intended. “Carpe diem”, though, is broader and more insistent. It somehow seems more universal and true than its diabetic counterpart.

Sudden tragedy and the looming possibility of more tragedy is all around us; last week alone, I found out a relative of mine may not stay alive until the next time I’m able to see her. I found out that someone I know has an unidentified mass that could be cancer or could be nothing. And I wallowed in bilious, helpless empathy for a high school classmate I barely know whose wheelchair-bound husband died from a strain of swine flu he caught on their honeymoon cruise.

It sounds like a fucking joke it’s so sad.

So here I am, with my own little set of things to bitch about. But really, I’m pretty lucky. I’m in decent health, I don’t have any truly debilitating quirks like my friend who has frequent kidney stones or my other friend with an adult-onset allergy to gluten or my other friend who has hard-to-diagnose pelvic pain for which hours and hours of physical therapy might help. I mean, being a bald asthmatic with bad knees isn’t magical, but it could be a lot worse. I’ve been lucky. No amount of knocking on wood, though, can guarantee how lucky I’ll be tomorrow or in 2011, or—God forbid—if I ever make it to 31. But maybe the fact that I’ve been this lucky so far is the reason why “seizing the day” is such an abstract and nebulous idea to me.

Should I live today as if it’s my last?

If I only had one day left to live, I would go right out and buy a pack of Marlboro Milds 100’s. But I presumably have many days left to live and I enjoy being able to walk up a flight of stairs without vomiting up one of my lungs, so I don’t smoke anymore. If I had one day left, I’d eat piles of okonomiyaki and McGriddles and Swiss rolls, but I probably have more time to live, so I try to eat well and preserve my girlish figure. If I had only a single day to live, I’d tell people what I really thought of them; all the things nobody says. I’d write them on post-it notes.

“You’re screwing up your child’s life by keeping him in a bubble. My best, Brent.”

“You have bad breath and everybody talks about it. There’s prescription stuff for that. My best, Brent.”

“I’m sorry I don’t like you back. You’re a very talented unicyclist. My best, Brent.”

But if I wrote all those notes today, I’d burn bridges, make friendships awkward and alienate most of the people I care about. Kind of a paradox, huh?

So how to seize the day without ruining tomorrow?

The other night I was hanging at a bar in the East Village with my friend Petros. The bartenders at this joint have an unusual practice where they shush the room whenever it gets too loud to talk normally; it’s weird, but that’s why I like this place. At one point, the bartender shushed the room and I decided to take advantage of the momentary quietness by spontaneously proposing a fictitious toast, telling everyone that Petros had gotten engaged that night. He proceeded to play along with me as we regaled a small group of cooing women and their frowning boyfriends about his incredibly romantic proposal, involving him playing an original song to his wife on guitar as all their friends looked on, singing a choral arrangement and holding candles.

Guess whose drinks were free that night?

I don’t mean to hold up a story about me lying elaborately to strangers as some kind of shining example of living in the moment, but hey, that day was pretty well-seized, right?

And then last night—in a stupor caused by approximately one pint of cheap tequila coursing through my veins—I tweeted “You know what? When life is good, it’s good. Breathe it in and embrace it because life is fleeting.”

And as sloppy poo-pants drunk as I was, I think maybe I was onto something.

In my very short life, I have gained very little lasting wisdom. I have a Teflon brain and I find myself re-learning the basic dos and don’ts over and over again. The smarter and more mature my friends get, the more I worry I’m being naïve every time I have a thought. No one solicited my perspective on how to seize the day, and nothing has warranted it. But nonetheless, having thought a lot this week about the life I have left—indeed, the time we all have left—here’s what I hope to do more of with the rest of my life:

Telling my loved ones I love them. Doing things I’ve been putting off. Occasionally inconveniencing the tomorrow version of myself for the fulfillment of the tonight version. Embracing and basking in things like the first snow of the winter or the satisfaction of a well-cooked meal. Hugging with my whole body. Loving with my whole heart. Puppies. Babies. Bacon. Each one of us has a finite and individual number of these experiences left before we run out; you take one off the rack, and who knows how many are in the back.

So now, with this tiny sliver of what might prove to be wisdom, I cross slowly and humbly—if you can believe it—over the threshold of the present into the dimly lit hall of the future. “Here I come,” I say,

“Prepare to be carpe’d.”